U.S Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton was in the DRC this week. She had a number of high level meetings along with visiting Goma, in Eastern Congo and ground zero for the worst sexual violence in the world. As the New York Times reported, Secretary Clinton announced measures to combat the sexual violence.
“Mrs. Clinton used her unprecedented visit — she is the first secretary of state to venture into the war zone here — to unveil a $17 million plan to fight Congo’s stunning levels of sexual violence, a problem she called “evil in its basest form.”
She announced that the American government would train doctors, supply rape victims with video cameras to document violence, send American military engineers to help build facilities and train Congolese police officers, especially female police officers, to crack down on rapists.”
Video cameras? To document the violence? This isn’t Survivor: DRC or Big Brother, this is genocide of the female race and we are going to ask the women to tape it? To what end? If it’s to identify the perpetrators, guess what? Many of the victims know who raped them – men in uniform. If it’s to tell the world what is happening, guess what? This has been going on for 12 years. 12 years activists and organizations have been screaming from the rooftops “PUT YOUR ATTENTION HERE!”
And what exactly is the American government going to train Congolese doctors on – repairing fistulas? Rebuilding women and girls’ reproductive tracts that have been so horribly destroyed? I would daresay after 12 years it is the Congolese doctors who could train the American ones.
I appreciate the Secretary of State’s visit, I do. She is the first in 12 years. Secretaries of State under President Clinton and President Bush were unacceptably silent on the issue of the DRC.
But with all due respect the action plan unveiled this week is bullshit.
Training takes time. The women and the girls of the DRC do not have any. The raping will continue with impunity as it has done and the 23 militia groups who mill about the jungle waiting to perpetrate fresh hell on some who have already been victimized more than once will simply carry on.
The real solution is boots on the ground. We struggle with our reasons for being in Afghanistan and in the case of the Americans, with being in Iraq. I venture if you tell your nation you are sending your soldiers, strong and courageous and with the full weight of an advanced military, to stop 3 year old girls from being raped to death (raped to death – just let that wash over you for a moment) everyone would understand why we are there.
I know, I know – we can’t be everywhere. We can’t solve every problem in the world and hey, have you heard? There’s an economic crisis and let’s face it ensuring the survival of GM, AIG and Goldman’s is far more pressing than some little girl in the DRC with a gun stuck up her vagina.
There is such a thing as a moral imperative in this world. The concentration camps of Nazi Germany were one. The Killing Fields of Cambodia were another. As was the war in Bosnia and the genocide in Rwanda and as is the genocide in Darfur. The DRC? It is an absolute moral imperative. Of course as I look over that list and see how the world reacted, it’s clear that we have yet to learn our lesson. Our inaction is predictable.
Some reading this will say I should be grateful for the first steps Secretary Clinton has made. At least she’s trying etc, etc. Unfortunately, I’m a bit of an expert in deciphering “diplomatese” and so there is no gratitude forthcoming.
The world needs to act on the DRC. But as I read the media coverage from her trip it’s clear to me they have moved on to the next story, the next photo op. And I daresay, some have missed the plot completely. In covering Clinton’s visit to the DRC, Tina Brown, former editor of both Vanity Fair and the New Yorker, chose to report this about Clinton:
…the African humidity had wreaked havoc on her hair. It had gone all flat and straight, which puts any woman in a bad humor. (Let's not forget: It was a sympathetic reference to the female-specific chore of keeping perfectly coiffed that made Hillary's eyes fill with tears back in New Hampshire.) Plus, the grueling State Department schedule means these days she can never get to the gym.
The media is supposed to help demand accountability. The DRC is just their latest epic fail.
As for Secretary Clinton, she came, she saw and she really didn’t do much else.
13 August 2009
6 August 2009
Back in the saddle...
....more or less.
It's been an interesting three weeks - apparently my body is providing a comfortable home to a particularly nasty virus that leaves me feeling pooped, nauseous and a little cranky most of the time. The good news? This too shall pass.
I apparently just have to be patient.
Yeah. And one of these days pigs will fly.
My trips to the hospital have provided me with some rather entertaining moments.
After my first trip to the ER and a rather uncomfortable exam at 5 a.m., my lovely, kind doctor looked at me and said, "Well, you're not pregnant."
To which I replied, "I knew that. Unless of course it's the Second Coming of Christ."
With just the smallest hint of a smile, he shook his head and told me, "That's a lot of responsibility."
I like doctors with a sense of humour.
I also like nurses who don't take any crap. My mom is a nurse like that. Though retired, she did her training with the nuns which means she is tough and has little time for those who don't pull their weight.
While cooling our heels in the exam room, one of the new breed of nurses came in and pulled out the kit the doctor would need for the exam. And then left it all wrapped up. My mother was horrified. As was the next nurse who came in. She was significantly older and was muttering about how the kit needed to be undone and made ready for use. Once she did that, she then went out in the hall and very forcefully told some drunken maniac to get back in his room and stay put or he was going to answer to her.
The best part of all that was the drunken maniac had a security guard stationed outside his door, lest he become a menace. Big, burly guard boy with his military style uniform and kevlar vest was no match for the drunken maniac nor for the nurse who set them both straight.
The CT scan was an interesting experience as well. It never ceases to amaze me what people are willing to let go of when they aren't feeling well. When you are sick what really matters to you and what doesn't becomes very clear, very quickly.
I was hanging out in the CT waiting room, dressed in my fancy gown (I'm sure I saw it in Medical Vogue) when a woman, having completed her CT scan , came back to retrieve her belongings from a locker and change. She was obviously tired and not feeling great and I watched as she struggled to hold the back of the gown with one hand and open the locker with the other. The dexterity to complete that particular mission was beyond her at that point and clearly her primary objective was to get changed and get the hell home. So she did what any other person would do, she let go of the back of the gown and concentrated on opening the locker.
The 17 year old sitting next to me and I were both treated to a full, unadulterated view of her naked behind. She didn't even make a second attempt to hold the gown closed. She was done, she was over it. Her bare ass was there to be seen and she didn't care because all she wanted to do was go home.
I get that.
The x-ray dye for the CT scan brought its own entertainment. The technician asked me if anyone had explained what to expect with the dye. I told him no one had told me I was getting dye. He sighed and shook his head. And then listed off all the possible sensations I might experience. He smiled and said, "And just looking at you, I'm pretty sure you're going to have them all."
And yes I honestly felt:
1) like I was sucking on a magic marker
2) that I had peed myself
3) that I had fluid in my limbs
4) that my head was momentarily detached from my body.
fun times!
The highlight in all of this had to be me finally coming clean to my mother that I have a tattoo. I've had it for 4 years and never said anything because it's not visible and it's mine. Alas, hospital gowns and the like tend to be bad secret keepers.
She was so distracted by my potential need for surgery, she just shrugged and said, "Well, at least it's patriotic."
As my energy gets on the upswing, I hope to write more. I have several blog posts started but not completed - they require more focus than I can spare at the moment but I will get there.
hope you all are well.
xoxo
It's been an interesting three weeks - apparently my body is providing a comfortable home to a particularly nasty virus that leaves me feeling pooped, nauseous and a little cranky most of the time. The good news? This too shall pass.
I apparently just have to be patient.
Yeah. And one of these days pigs will fly.
My trips to the hospital have provided me with some rather entertaining moments.
After my first trip to the ER and a rather uncomfortable exam at 5 a.m., my lovely, kind doctor looked at me and said, "Well, you're not pregnant."
To which I replied, "I knew that. Unless of course it's the Second Coming of Christ."
With just the smallest hint of a smile, he shook his head and told me, "That's a lot of responsibility."
I like doctors with a sense of humour.
I also like nurses who don't take any crap. My mom is a nurse like that. Though retired, she did her training with the nuns which means she is tough and has little time for those who don't pull their weight.
While cooling our heels in the exam room, one of the new breed of nurses came in and pulled out the kit the doctor would need for the exam. And then left it all wrapped up. My mother was horrified. As was the next nurse who came in. She was significantly older and was muttering about how the kit needed to be undone and made ready for use. Once she did that, she then went out in the hall and very forcefully told some drunken maniac to get back in his room and stay put or he was going to answer to her.
The best part of all that was the drunken maniac had a security guard stationed outside his door, lest he become a menace. Big, burly guard boy with his military style uniform and kevlar vest was no match for the drunken maniac nor for the nurse who set them both straight.
The CT scan was an interesting experience as well. It never ceases to amaze me what people are willing to let go of when they aren't feeling well. When you are sick what really matters to you and what doesn't becomes very clear, very quickly.
I was hanging out in the CT waiting room, dressed in my fancy gown (I'm sure I saw it in Medical Vogue) when a woman, having completed her CT scan , came back to retrieve her belongings from a locker and change. She was obviously tired and not feeling great and I watched as she struggled to hold the back of the gown with one hand and open the locker with the other. The dexterity to complete that particular mission was beyond her at that point and clearly her primary objective was to get changed and get the hell home. So she did what any other person would do, she let go of the back of the gown and concentrated on opening the locker.
The 17 year old sitting next to me and I were both treated to a full, unadulterated view of her naked behind. She didn't even make a second attempt to hold the gown closed. She was done, she was over it. Her bare ass was there to be seen and she didn't care because all she wanted to do was go home.
I get that.
The x-ray dye for the CT scan brought its own entertainment. The technician asked me if anyone had explained what to expect with the dye. I told him no one had told me I was getting dye. He sighed and shook his head. And then listed off all the possible sensations I might experience. He smiled and said, "And just looking at you, I'm pretty sure you're going to have them all."
And yes I honestly felt:
1) like I was sucking on a magic marker
2) that I had peed myself
3) that I had fluid in my limbs
4) that my head was momentarily detached from my body.
fun times!
The highlight in all of this had to be me finally coming clean to my mother that I have a tattoo. I've had it for 4 years and never said anything because it's not visible and it's mine. Alas, hospital gowns and the like tend to be bad secret keepers.
She was so distracted by my potential need for surgery, she just shrugged and said, "Well, at least it's patriotic."
As my energy gets on the upswing, I hope to write more. I have several blog posts started but not completed - they require more focus than I can spare at the moment but I will get there.
hope you all are well.
xoxo
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